


Breath Of Life

by kathleensmiles



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathleensmiles/pseuds/kathleensmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of requests, prompts and drabbles from Tumblr. Mostly Daryl/Carol and Rick/Michonne.<br/>Fifth prompt, Lend Me Your Eyes for Froggirl68 . "Hardly would of taken you for a stargazer back at the quarry," she says absentmindedly, half teasing, half remembering. " <br/>Carol and Daryl watch the stars. Please Review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay, Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a collection of prompts and drabbles, mostly caryl and richonne, from tumblr.  
> Warnings vary per drabble and all are unrelated to one another unless otherwise stated.  
> If anyone here would like to request something feel free to do so, I'd also love to write some Merle/Andrea and Andrea/Milton aside from richonne and caryl. But feel free to message me if ya want something :)  
> This chap I'm warning for minor language.  
> Asamcedesfan on tumblr wanted this awkward "please stay in my cell, I need you" and I live to please so here it is.  
> Enjoy and please review!

Stay, For Asamcedesfan

_Not really sure how to feel about it,_   
_something in the way you move._   
_Makes me feel like I can t live without you._   
_Yeah It takes me all the way._   
_And I want you to stay._   
_Stay- Rihanna feat Mikky Ekko_

To say the prison had become crowded may have been the greatest underestimation Carol had ever uttered.  
With the addition of the Woodburians- as Glenn called them- space had turned into an increasingly rare commodity, privacy even more unattainable than before with fleets of kids running through the prisons halls as if it was their personal playground. Finding sleeping quarters for the people Daryl unflinchingly referred to as the Surburbanites had proved an impossible task without sharing cells. Of course, most of them had already paired off.

Glenn and Maggie, Michonne and Tyreese, Beth and Hershel, Rick and Carl- turned out the only two without a bunkmate were herself and Daryl. She glanced over to where he sat, in the far corner of the cafeteria, moving food from one side of his plate to another, eyes glued to his uneaten dinner. She knew the idea of a bunkmate, a stranger in his space, his sacred little personal bubble, was gnawing at him. Daryl didn't fear much of anything in the world, but she did the know that the possibility of someone catching sight of the scars on his back, the etchings of a life lived in terror was enough to make his palms slick with sweat and his breath hitch with anxiety.  
And she was hardly jumping up and down with anticipation herself.  
To be honest the idea of some stranger so close to her at night made her stomach churn. It wasn't entirely logical; these people weren't killers, hell, if not for that psycho they d have all died off months ago; but she couldn't help the instinctive distrust. They d been through too much now, seen the ugliest side humanity had to offer.  
If a stranger moved in with her she wouldn't sleep a wink.

So he was her only option. She kept putting off asking him, nerves stopping her midsentence.  
It was silly- there was no reason for her not to ask. Just the quick flutter in her chest and the heat in her cheeks whenever she started to. It was foolish of her, letting her emotions get in the way of what was a perfectly platonic request. As much as she wished otherwise she knew Daryl wasn't ready for anything more. So she'd go. She'd ask him right now, while he sat ,alone, playing with his food. Ignoring the fear of rejection gripping her, she stood from her place at the table, pushing her chair in and striding towards him purposefully. He looked up when she stood in front of him, expression puzzled.

"Hey, wha's goin' on?"

She took a deep breath, willed her hands to stop shaking.

"Well Rick's saying everybody has to share cells."

He scoffed, letting his distaste for the idea be known.

"Yeah," I heard. "Fuckin' stupid."

She swallowed, her nervousness beginning to overtake her. Damn it. Come on. Do it. Just spit it out.

"Daryl, I can't stay with one of them... With a stranger. I just can't, I just-"

"I know," he interrupted abruptly, beginning to tear into his thumbnail.  
"Don't worry 'bout it."

His eyes met hers then, his bright frosty blues boring into her and she understood.

"So you'll be there?"

He nodded, breaking eye contact, staring at his now lukewarm dinner.

"Yeah."

She smiled, nodding back. "Thanks."

"Ain't nothin'. Now lemme eat my dinner fer chrissakes."

Carol gave him a final nod and walked away, still smiling with the knowledge that he would be there.


	2. The Color Of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So mywatermelonsmile on tumblr wanted an angst fest of Rick confessing his love and Michonne getting killed by The Gov.  
> Hey look, I rhymed!  
> Warning for major character death, language, gore and this getting away from me and getting all introspective and whatnot.  
> Hope you enjoy and please review!

The Color Of Blood

_The color of,_   
_blood is all I see on the rocks._   
_As you sail from me._   
_My Blood- Ellie Goulding_

He had no idea how it happened.  
He's gone over it in his head a million times, trying to trace it's origins, pinpoint when it started- but it's useless. Like trying to remember what happened while you were dreaming- there's just no way of knowing for sure. It could of been when she'd clung to the fence, wounded, as vulnerable as he'd ever seen her, clutching a basket full of formula. Might of been when she'd been the only source of understanding when Lori had run through his mind like a home video on loop, wedding dress and all. Could just of easily had been when she'd offered such easy forgiveness after his near betrayal, or when those bottomless brown eyes stared back at him. Hell, could've been all of the above- but no matter how it had started, it was undeniably there. He felt it, in the twinge of his chest whenever a walker began to approach her, in the way his eyes followed her around the prison and out on runs.  
Sometime within the last few months, he'd fallen for Michonne.  
He'd felt guilty at first; this was hardly the time to concern himself with romance, with Lori's death still so raw and Carl growing colder by the day; but he couldn't help it. Somehow, without his noticing, the ruthless but gentle woman with the katana drew him in- and she didn't seem to be releasing him anytime soon.  
It was growing into a distraction really, his attraction to her. He kept staring at her when he was suppose to be listening to Daryl, which tended to irritate his friend to no end. She often caught his gaze, a knowing smirk crossing her full lips, one of the few times she would smile- her already rare grins even less common since they'd lost Andrea. He liked that, making her smile, however unintentionally. So it was no surprise that it was her smile- bright and precious, there only for him- that broke down his last defenses against her.  
He'd made a joke on watch (something teasing about Hershel chasing, hobbling really, after Carl and Beth to make sure they didn't get into any funny business) and she'd laughed, loud and genuine, a snort escaping her. He didn't think, didn't hesitate, just closed his mouth over hers mid-giggle.

She tensed at first, surprised, but slowly began to open her mouth, intertwining her tongue with his, meshing their lips together as the kiss picked up in intensity. A low, throaty moan broke from her and she straddled him, nipping his jaw while his lips clung to her smooth throat, appreciating the sound of his name on her tongue. Neither of them returned to their cells that night. Or the next, or even the night after that.  
They accustomed themselves to the pointed glances and whispers- turned out the Woodburians loved to gossip- ignoring the questions in the others eyes. They were content, in a few brief days they'd developed a routine, a sense of long lost normalcy. He can't say why he expected it to last, these things never lasted anymore.  
Even the strongest fell eventually.

The gunfire had come out of nowhere, catching them as the walked outside the prison's perimeter, checking for holes in the fence.  
Michonne had been speaking, pointing out that they were low on corn when her head fell back, skull cracking and splitting as a single shot pierced through her forehead. All he felt was shock at first- Christ it had been months. They'd all thought The Governor was dead by now, or at least holed up elsewhere.  
He'd thought it was safe, they all had. She had.  
Then the shock subsided, replaced by something darker, the truth, the reality of the situation beginning to settle in his bones. The closest thing he could liken it to were Morgan's words of how he'd seen red. He'd thought he understood before, when he'd torn through the tombs in a rage after Lori's death. That had been nothing. His vision, his entire world turned a deep, dark crimson as he dove forward. He heard nothing but the echo of that shot as he slammed The Governor down, a strangely distant roar reaching his ears as he clawed at him. The Governor tried to fight back but it was useless, Rick pinned him down, driving the heel of his hand into the man's one good eye until he recognized a satisfying pop followed by a wail. Rick never even took his gun out, used his hands the whole time, relished the feel of broken bone smashing against his fist, of The Governor's desperate struggling, his life ebbing away because of Rick's hands around the psycho's throat. Phillip's eye-less lids had almost shut for the last time when Rick released him, letting him choke pathetically for air in the fetal position as he stood over him. Strangulation was too easy, better than the monster on the dirt in front of him deserved. Everything he saw was red, redder than Michonne's blood soaking into the dirt, when he kicked him in the ribs, forcing the man to curl up. He placed his boot onto The Governor's face- hardly recognizable now- and stomped onto it with every bit of energy he had left. He kept going as he heard teeth breaking and jaw cracking fade into the familiar sound of blood and brain matter squishing underfoot. He kept going, gore staining his jeans, The Governor reduced to nothing but a mess of bloody gray matter ans shattered skull.

"Dad?"

He stopped, looked up to see that the sky had darkened and that Carl stood in front of him, that everyone was watching on the other side of the fence, fear and disgust written plain on their faces. The Governor was dead, almost non-existent now, but all he saw was red, the coppery red of her blood soaking into the dirt, staining his world crimson.


	3. So Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So JackAndHoney wanted Daryl and Carol to have a heart-to-heart about Merle and themselves...  
> And this drabble happened.  
> I have no idea what it is, I swear I set out fully intending to fulfill the prompt! Honest!  
> *sobs*  
> Enjoy (maybe) and please review either way!

So Hard

_Nobody said it was easy._   
_No one ever said it would be so hard._   
_The Scientist- Coldplay_

The silence while they waited for The Governor to make his move was almost painfully long and eerily still.  
From their vantage point within the cage it seemed like even the walkers had quieted, some of them standing in place as though they too were waiting.  
It was unsettling, the silence, the sense of something building. The calm before the storm, she thought, remembering the cliched term for it. More like the calm before the hurricane, if what Merle had imparted to them about their foe was true. Merle. The thought of Daryls brothers recent sacrifice had Carol turning towards him, studying the furrow in his brow, the shadow in his eyes that had become ever-present since he'd found the shambling corpse. All that had remained of the only blood he had. He'd found a family in the group, a place; but this wouldn't help ease the cruel sting of the loss he'd suffered, the truth of the matter plain in his gaze.

"I might of been wrong, you know," she spoke suddenly. "About Merle."

He gave her a quick, unreadable glance before focusing back on the field. "Whaddaya mean?"

"When I said he wasn't good for you..."

Daryl scoffed at that. "Wha', ya figure out he was a saint all of a sudden?" He turned away from her. "Didn't ask fer yer sympathy, I know ya'll hated 'im, after wha' happened wit' Glenn and Maggie...Don't blame ya."

She shook her head.   
"I never hated him Daryl what happened...Well, it happened. It was done with, nothing we could do about it anymore." She stared at him, but his eyes refused to meet hers, lost in their own universe. "We talked, me and him, you know...Before."

That regained his attention, he peered back up at her through the fringe of his too-long and unruly bangs. "And?"

"He was trying Daryl. To fix things. In his own way. He wasn't a completely bad person, he was just...Merle."

He chuckled, the noise coming out more bitter and wistful than amused. "Yeah. Merle always was 'is own animal."

"I'm just saying, nobody blames you for mourning him." She took a deep breath, choosing her next words carefully. "They'll understand if you need...Closure."

Daryl was tearing into his thumbnail as she spoke, perplexed until realization settled upon him and he looked up at her with a cold acceptance.

"I know. I just...I didn't wanna bury tha'...Thin'. Didn' want it under a marker wit' my brother's name on it." He shook his head slowly, reaching into his chest pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes, grimacing as he lit one and placed it between his lips. "Tha' weren't Merle, didn' want 'im bein' remembered as..."

"I understand Daryl," Carol finished for him, tone soothing as she put a light hand on his shoulder.

Because she did, it was exactly her fear when she'd refused to attend Sophias funeral, that she'd never again be able to remember her baby as anything but a monster. The fear that the image of a starving, rotten corpse would overshadow the memories of her beautiful girl laughing, smiling, living.

He nodded, mumbling. "Look, 'm sorry 'bout how I acted when..." He swallowed, mind on Sophia as well as his brother now. "I didn't get it is all."

"It's okay."

"Naw, it ain't."

"No Daryl, it is." She insisted, forcing him to meet her stare head-on. "You didn't understand Daryl, you couldn't of- God, no one should. It's okay. You'll be okay."

His voice cracked a little when he answered her and she felt her heartstrings tug at the quiver in his words.

"I ain't sure."

Carol let her fingers wrap around his wrist, voice firm, hold steady. "You will be Daryl. This won't break you. I won't let it."

Daryl gave her a careful, shaky nod, expression trusting. She let her hand drift down to clasp his for a moment. They heard gunfire and broke apart, preparing themselves.   
Carol smiled to herself a little, despite the fear. He hadn't flinched away. He trusted her to lead him through this.  
So she would.


	4. What You Find, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm alot happier with how this turned out, this is part one of a prompt from sarahnorling, who wanted Carol to find the Cherokee Rose on her "grave" and to have a run in with a Ghost/Delusion/Angel/Think-What-Ya-Want Sophia, who talks with her about Daryl a bit.  
> Then when Daryl returns Carol talks to him about it, which will be in the second part.  
> Enjoy and please review!

What You Find There

_And there will come a time,_   
_You'll see,_   
_With no more tears._   
_And love will not break your heart,_   
_But dismiss your fears._   
_Get over your hill and see what you find there._   
_After The Storm- Mumford And Sons_

It had been over an hour since Daryl and the others had left to rescue Glenn and Maggie.  
Judith was asleep in her basket, soundless with the exception of the occasional gurgle. Beth and Hershel where talking in low, hushed voices in their cell while Carl watched over his sister. Axel had watch, and so Carol was alone, sitting at one of the large, round metal tables with nothing but her worries for company. Carl began rocking Judith, the basket they'd filled with scrap clothing and worn blankets scratching rythmically against the floor as it went back and forth. She wondered if Rick and the others were okay, if Daryl was okay, the walls around her beginning to close in as her mind ran through all the possibilities, all the ways that she could lose him. The rocking of Judiths basket sped up with her thoughts. It could be a trap, a way to draw them out and capture them. A herd could blow through, The Governor could have a ambush planned, Michonne could turn on them, he could be shot, or bit...She felt her breath speed up, the rise and fall of her chest becoming shaky as she sat on the verge of panic, mind racing. She clenched her fist, willed herself to get it together. Air, she just needed some air.

Pushing her chair away, she half ran from the cellblock, out into the field, finding herself among the rough crosses that poked out from the lush grass of the hill. Lori. T-dog. Her friends- family really, after all they'd endured- gone, the only evidence they'd ever existed the splintered wood of their grave markers. She shook quietly, soft sobbing wracking her chest as she allowed herself to mourn them. There hadn't been time to cry for T-Dog, to thank him and miss him like he deserved. Only time to run, to fight the walkers that had come too close, to hide away from harm, to survive, curled up in the corner, back against the cold concrete of the cell, feeling the hope drain from her as the hours ticked past. She hadn't even known Lori was gone. The woman had become so much like the sister Carol had lost before the apocalypse- forbidden to contact by Ed- and losing her still felt like a punch in the gut.  
Their was hard, but she could carry on. She would carry on- but she allowed herself to mourn them first.

She was still crying, though the tears had slowed, when she looked on the ground and noticed that the third cross- her cross- had a small gift beside it.  
A Cherokee Rose, white petals only just beginning to wilt, placed just next to the pebble C that identified the graves owner. She couldn't help but sniffle and smile through the tears on her cheeks. Only Daryl could of left that, could've known what it would mean to her. Even when he thought she was gone, he cared. His actions showed it more than words ever could.

She was stroking the flowers soft petals absentmindedly, still smiling as she thought of the redneck and his astonishing gentleness, when he toe of a small sneaker appeared in front of her. She closed her eyes, muttering to herself to calm down, preparing herself for what she was about to see. It had been a while since the last time she'd appeared, but after a whole winter spent enduring it, Carol was used to the sight. When she looked back up Sophia was standing there, as healthy and whole as she'd ever been, fidgeting and impatiently kicking her long legs back and forth. She looked every bit the daughter Carol remembered, from the way she scrunched her freckled little nose to the strawberry blonde hair falling in her eyes.  
But Sophia was dead and Carol knew it, would never forget the image of the thing her girl had turned into falling down dead. Seeing Sophia had been hard at first, forced her to question her sanity, but over the winter she got used to it, worked around it until it the image had faded from her mind. It had been months since the vision had shown itself last.

"What are you doing here?" Carol asked, voice coming out quiet and choked.

Sophia pursed her lips and shrugged her frail, thin shoulders with a sigh. "Nothin' much. Just wanted t' visit and tell ya I'm happy."

That threw Carol for a loop. Usually this Sophia was bitter, accusing and full of blame for her death.

"Happy?"

"Yup." Sophia replied, popping the P, humming a nonsensical melody.

"I don't understand."

Now it was Sophia's turn to look confused, blue eyes wide as dinner plates as she replied. "Cause ya found somebody to love you Ma, for really. Not like how Daddy did...Like the kind where he'd come rescue ya if you were in a tower."

The tears had started to drip down Carol's cheeks. "A tower?"

"Yeah, ya know. Like R'punzel." Sophias face became serious as she spoke, finishing with a nod. "He'll take care of you. That's wha' I always wanted. And I like 'im. Even if he does hurt deer."

"I'm glad you do Sophia baby," Carol spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too." Sophia glanced behind her, towards the prison, frowning. "Better go back, baby's crying."

Carol turned towards the structure for a second, if even that, but when she turned back Sophia was gone. Wiping the wetness from her face and drying her eyes with the hem of her shirt, she started back, feeling somehow lighter. Whether an angel or a delusion, Carol had been able to talk to her little girl, her miracle, one last time.  
She was grateful for it.  
  



	5. Lend Me Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caryl.. stargazing while camping out away from the prison for froggirl68 on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short drabble. Hope you enjoy!

_Lend me your eyes I can change what you see_   
_\- Mumford And Sons, Awake My Soul_

Carol woke up in the dead of night, unable to sleep as thoughts looped through her head, nightmares of Lizzie attempting to play with a long dead and turned Sophia, of Mika and her sister facing a bush of Cherokee roses while gasoline was poured over them until a gunshot rang out. After the nightmares she could never quite seem to settle back to sleep, every rock in the cold ground her sleeping bag was on seeming to rise up to jab into her back. Finally she gave up on sleep, walking over instead to where Daryl sat on the edge of the small cliff they’d camped at and planting herself beside him. He grunted in acknowledgement, eyes on the endless expanse of sky above them. She let her eyes stay on him, traveling up the line of his neck and jaw to his eyes, which were wandering among the glittering points in the sky as if he was playing some kind of celestial connect-the-dots. Carol set her eyes on the sky then, letting herself have a rare moment of appreciation for the world, for the clarity and brightness of the stars, before turning back to Daryl.

"Hardly would of taken you for a stargazer back at the quarry," she whispered absentmindedly, half teasing, half remembering.

Daryl kept his eyes on the sky, a few heartbeats passing before he replied.

"No matter where ya end up- there’s always a sky an’ there ‘re always stars. Configured a lil’ different maybe but still there."

He sighed, eyes still tracing the patterns of stars above him.

"Always liked how back in the old days  sailors ‘n pirates n' shit used the stars t’ figure out where they were. Always figured that was ‘cause no matter how far off ya went, long as ya could see stars, y’ were still here. Long as there’re stars ya can figure shit out. Find yer place."


End file.
